


Nature 2.0

by Yeoyou



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Dystopia, M/M, body design, body enhancement, cloning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeoyou/pseuds/Yeoyou
Summary: It's not easy being normal in a world full of perfection. Natural-born Hal Emmerich is only too aware of that, surrounded by genetically enhanced and designed people.(Written for a prompt by thelonebamf that got out of hand and steered off course)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelonebamf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/gifts).



> A warning at the beginning: the shape of this story may change yet. This was written in response to a prompt by thelonebamf and this is what I sent her eventually. As it grows, it might change yet (I'm still not sure if this is a prologue or the first part of a chapter or what) but ... well, I couldn't resist posting this and gathering some feedback ;D

"You're a natural."

Hal Emmerich was no stranger to the sneer that accompanied the words. The man that had uttered them was obviously no natural. He was too handsome, too well built, with the unmistakable air of superiority that accompanied gene supremacy. If Hal wasn't entirely mistaken – and unfortunately he wouldn't be on this matter – the man in front of him was another clone of the legendary Big Boss, maybe even an original from the infamous project _Les Enfants Térrible_. That at least was hard to tell. Age had lost her sting on most of Earth's citizens and once the project had been made public, there had been a veritable Big Boss cloning craze among parents. In the past, a crazy trend just meant that you had half a dozen other people with the same name in your class. Now they all had the same face.

Still, there were some faces better than others, as Hal was only too aware.

He sighed in exasperation. It hadn't been a good day, he had hardly slept in seventy-two hours, hadn't had anything to eat for nearly as much time, funds running low, and a fuse in his brain just blew.

"Look, if you want pretty, you'll have to link one of the agencies that actually pays their employees living wages. But I can do the job just fine. Machines don't care if you're super gorgeous or not, in case you hadn't noticed."

He could have slapped himself. Now he'd be sent back, the man would probably complain about him to his boss and that'd be another job he couldn't hold for more than a couple of months.

But instead, one ridiculously attractive eyebrow lifted the tiniest fraction and the man waved Hal inside.

Hal was so stunned he needed almost half a minute to compute that he actually wasn't fired – yet. He stepped inside and ran a hand through his unruly, colourless hair.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have been so rude."

Something akin to a lazy smile curled the man's lips. "Guess you had a bad day, huh?"

Hal snorted.

"Try life, but yeah. So ... how can I help you?"

 

\--

 

"Either you're the clumsiest Two-O I've ever met or–"

"Or?" The man in front of Hal prompted.

Hal half-shrugged and sighed.

"Maybe they screwed something up with your bioelectric field or something when they designed you and now machines don't like you."

It was a weak attempt at a joke And one he could actually get fired for all over again. Never insult a customer. Never insult an enhanced.

Humour seemed to have been bred out of humanity. It probably clashed with supremacy on a genetic level or some such shit.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

Hal's eyes darted to the man's face for a second. To Big Boss' face. Tried to find the sneer, the malicious glint that had been curiously absent in his voice.

He didn't find it.

The man shrugged. "Or maybe I just am clumsy."

"Yeah, right."

They stood face to face for another awkward moment, Hal avoiding eye contact and getting distracted by the lips of an all too familiar mouth. He could feel his palms getting sweaty while he transferred his weight from one foot to the other.

He hated this. He hated these assignments, this work he could have performed while sleeping – which was often not far from the truth, actually. He hated his own weakness for having fallen for this face, this body, that mocked him with its complete lack of attainability. That was just an empty shell.

"So ... uhm ... how can I help you this time?"

 

\--

 

Twice more this past month, Hal had been linked to the Big Boss clone in order to fix this broken machine or that screwed up installation. And Hal just couldn't figure out what was going on.

But it was futile in any case. Hal groaned and rolled over on the thin excuse of a mattress. He wouldn't be seeing this particular version of the legend anymore. The next time the man linked the agency – if there was a next time – Hal would no longer be available.

Never insult a customer. Never insult an enhanced.

It had only been a matter of time until the complaints against him piled up high enough to make it impossible for even his latest lazy employer to ignore them any longer.

_"He's impertinent and his ugly face gives me nightmares!"_

Nobody had asked _him_ what the sight of whiskers and golden spotted fur on his customer's face did to his own short hours of rest.

Hal rolled into a ball under his scratchy blanket, trying to ignore his neighbours once more slipping seamlessly from fighting to fucking. Trying to dispel the image of thin lips and firm hands from his mind.

 

The pounding that woke Hal up the next morning was surprisingly not confined to his skull alone. The thin metal sheet of his door shook with the force of the knocking outside.

Hal stumbled over his blanket while trying to get up, groped blindly for his ilens and somehow managed to stagger to the door, cursing all the while under his breath.

Nobody ever visited him. He didn't have any friends and he didn't exactly live in an area where neighbours asked each other for cups of sugar.

Which could only mean that his visitor came on unpleasant business.

Hal checked his ilens for messages, but there was nothing that could explain the bone-rattling noise that had dragged him out of bed. The tiny camera above his door, linked to a screen on the inside, had fritzed long ago and although Hal would have been more than capable to repair it, affording the money for a replacement was an entirely different matter.

Hal hesitated only for a moment before swiping his hand over the security panel of the door. He wouldn't be able to avoid the inevitable and delaying it wouldn't do much for his anxiety problems.

Better to get it over with. He could curl up afterwards.

The one lesson drilled into every fibre of his body since his father had first raised his hand against him. Since his stepmother had first run a sharp fingernail down his cheek.

The one lesson every natural learned.

The door opened with an asthmatic hiss.

"You!"

Finally picking up his jaw from the floor, Hal managed to add a weak "it is you, isn't it?"

Leaning against the dirty wall was a vision of perfection that only highlighted the derelict state of the corridor. Two-Os basically _never_ entered the Nats. And yet there was this almost exact replica of one of Earth's greatest heroes grinning down at Hal.

"Sorry for ... waking you up?"

Hal suddenly became _very_ aware of his washed out, threadbare pyjamas, his messy hair and the grey stubble throwing a wild party on his pale cheeks.

He pushed his ilens up his nose and stuttered something completely intelligent like "ugh...ah..."

"You do that a lot." His visitor observed with a slight frown.

"Uh...what?"

"Pushing up your ... glasses?"

"Uh...yeah...I guess?" _Glasses_. What an old-fashioned term for his cheap information lenses. Hal caught his hand just in time. No need to show the man just how true his words were. It was a nervous tick, one that bought Hal time because, for the briefest moment, he didn't have to see the world he was stuck in. And most of the time he really didn't want to see it.

"I haven't got enough money yet for corrective surgery or implants."

Nor would he ever have if he kept losing his jobs.

The man before him nodded and there was another moment of uncomfortable silence.

"What are you doing here?"

The briefest of smiles.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

Hal wondered, for a moment, if it was true. If the man – David Sears? – had one of those freak kinks. It was rare but not unheard of. Adventurous people bored by perfection and the extremes that had become so normal. Who sought the thrill of illicit meetings in the Nats, far away from the wary eyes of polite society. People who still craved physical touch and for whom the feelies weren't enough, even the most depraved ones.

Sears didn't look the type but then who did?

In the end, Hal didn't know what to reply so didn't say anything.

"The people at the agency said you no longer work there?"

Hal only confirmed with a nod and offered no further explanations.

"Well, they're idiots, obviously."

Hal shrugged, still silent. What could he say to that? Of course they were idiots but so was he for getting fired yet again, making all the same mistakes again, never learning.

He still didn't know what the clone wanted and no matter how good looking he was – Big Boss' face currently ranked somewhere in the top twenty – he didn't appreciate being dragged from bed. Even if it was a shitty bed that wasn't even comfortable to begin with.

What Hal hated even more was the fact that it didn't even matter what the man wanted from him. Hal wouldn't be able to refuse. Not unless he wanted to get into really big trouble.

Better to get it over with. He could curl up afterwards.

"So, what's this about?"

Hal tried to keep as much annoyance out of his voice as humanly possible at this early hour.

Sears looked hesitant for the first time.

"I ... could use your help."

"You could have just linked me."

The handsome face turned into a grimace for a moment.

"Can I come inside?"

Hal sighed and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Sure."

He stepped aside so Sears could squeeze into the tiny room with him and the clutter of electronic and machine parts.

"So ... what can I do for you?"

 

"You're kidding."

"No."

Sears, leaning awkwardly against the door because there was neither a chair nor actually space for one, shrugged.

Hal sat on the bed, hugging one knee. He'd offered the bed/sofa/table to Sears – remember your manners – but his visitor had declined. If that was because of his own manners or because he didn't want to get infected with normalcy or anything, Hal couldn't say.

"You don't know me. I'm not ... I'm a natural and you want me ... to work for you?"

"With me," Sears corrected and Hal's eyebrows climbed only higher.

"Why me?"

The clone shrugged again and rubbed his chin. He seemed ... sheepish.

"You seem an okay guy and ... you're really talented too from what I can tell and ... it's actually a good thing you're a natural. Means you're invested."

"I am?" Hal stifled a yawn and scratched his stubble. He couldn't deny that it was gratifying that Sears seemed to think him okay. That was rather an improvement to how people usually saw him. "You still haven't told me what you want me to do exactly. Or why I would be invested."

To be honest, getting him invested wouldn't require much. If it involved him being paid decently and not being yelled at, he was in.

"I'd rather not talk about that here." Sears eyed the walls suspiciously. Even at this hour, Hal's room could hardly be described as quiet. Pipes groaned, people too. The Nats were never silent.

It had mostly become white noise for Hal but his potential future employer was clearly not used to this level of noise. Hal wondered if Sears had enhanced hearing. Or what else they had "perfected" when they designed him.

Sears focused his attention back to Hal. "Treat you to breakfast? It's the least I owe you after waking you up."

"That ... actually sounds really good!" The thought of proper food lit up Hal's face and he almost fell off his bed in his hurry to get dressed.

Sears tried, and failed, to suppress a smile.

"I'll wait outside then."

 

\--

 

They took the maglev train but instead of returning to the city centre or the suburbs where Sears lived, they caught an outbound line further south, across the river.

Hal should probably have worried about accompanying this stranger to an unknown location. Maybe he did and was just too tired and too hungry to notice. Plus, he really liked Sears' face.

"This doesn't look like the kind of place you'd hang out." Hal observed as they alighted the train and Sears steered him towards an old-fashioned street café. There were trees and actual birds singing in the sky and the air smelled of spices and nature instead of the official artificial city scent in the better areas or the stink of too many unwashed bodies and too much decay in the Nats.

"I didn't even know this existed so close to the city!"

Hal couldn't stop looking around and was vaguely aware that his mouth hung open but didn't care enough to do something about that.

The man at his side shrugged. "I prefer this to the crowded city and come here whenever I can."

Hal eyed him with new interest as they took seats at a small table in the back. The café was mostly empty at this hour. When the holo menu popped up in front of him, he gulped at the prices. Of course things would be expensive in these nice surroundings. It was no place for people like him. He glanced nervously around him but none of the other guests seemed the least bit interested in the handsome man and his natural companion.

 

Sears seemed to have noticed Hal's sudden discomfort and offered him a reassuring smile. A very distracting smile. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it, of course, but it was the first time he'd seen it directed at himself. In real life and not in a feelie or VR either!

 

"Just order whatever you like. It's okay."

"You sure?"

He shouldn't have asked, of course. Stupid habit. Take what you can get and worry about the rest later. When would he learn?

But Sears only continued to smile and nodded before turning his attention back to his own menu. He didn't hesitate long before making his selection and the holo menu disappeared.

Hal needed much longer to decide between all those mouth-watering alternatives. Once he, too, had ordered, he shifted uncomfortably on his seat. This wasn't right. Him in this chic café, Sears paying for his food. Something was most definitely not right. He just hadn't figured out what yet. And whether it was something he should be worried about.

"Okay, so you drag me out of bed into a nice café for breakfast and all just so you can offer me a job?"

Hal unconsciously pushed his ilens up his nose and was irritated when Sears caught him and grinned. He hastily stuck his hands under the table, playing with the loose fabric of his trousers instead.

"It's ... a little more than just a job, to be honest."

"Is it illegal?"

Sears looked up in surprise before rubbing his neck.

"Uhm ... would you be averse to that?"

Hal chewed his lip and tried to come up with an answer. He wasn't exactly a model citizen but he'd mostly stayed on the right side of the law. Out of fear mostly. He'd misstepped once and hadn't particularly enjoyed the fallout. He certainly didn't think he owed the government anything.

A service-bot arrived with their beverages and food and gave Hal an extra minute to come up with a reply. Once the bot had disappeared again, he wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug and inhaled deeply.

The aromatic scent of freshly brewed _real_ coffee almost made him moan. He savoured the moment of anticipation before taking the first sip and then did let out a small sigh of pleasure.

"Oh Gods, this is ... "

"good?"

Hal could only nod and took another sip.

Sears watched him with a half-smile while sipping his own tea. He gave Hal a bit more time before resuming the conversation.

"So ... kinda still waiting for an answer here."

"Oh .. uh ... sorry. The coffee was just ... anyway, so I'm not ... _exactly_ averse? But I wouldn't do anything that could harm someone else."

Even if his feelings for the majority of his fellow human beings consisted of mostly jealousy fuelled resentment.

Sears nodded, once more serious. And yet there was perhaps a glint of approval gleaming in his blue eyes.

"That's good. Because it's more of the opposite really."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm so slow at figuring things out like plot and stuff, but in the meantime, have a short explanatory chapter in which Dave talks a lot about the stuff that I already do know ;D 
> 
> Now that Snot Week is out of the way, I hope I can concentrate on taming this beast again ;) And since I forgot to mention it in the last chapter, here's a [playlist](http://8tracks.com/yeoyou/nature-2-0) for this story, in case you're interested.

„Now you _must_ be kidding!“

Emmerich seemed on the verge of saying more but no further sounds came from his slack-jawed mouth. He'd even forgotten the cup of coffee halfway to his lips.

David only shook his head and continued to cut up his sandwich. His calm was mostly charade though. He knew that this moment was crucial. Even if Emmerich accepted that his story was true – and given the far-spun nature of it, that wasn't sure – there were still a lot of ways this could go sideways.

“So you're telling me that there's a shadowy organisation that controls everything and that wants to kill off all naturals and I'm just supposed to believe that's not a joke?” Emmerich still sounded dazed. To be fair to the natural, it was a lot to take in.

“Not a joke,” David affirmed.

There was a startlingly loud clank as Emmerich sat down his cup, swearing under his breath.

“Why?”

It was a legitimate question. Sure, naturals weren't exactly popular and there was all the usual bullshit propaganda that they couldn't be trusted, that they were driven by resentment, were uncontrollable and dangerous, and a health risk but to completely erase them off the face of the Earth? That was a bit radical even for the most extreme hate groups. But then this had nothing to do with hate.

David chewed on a tomatoe, relishing its freshness, and pondered his answer. He knew he had to give one but the truth seemed, in this case, really more like fiction. He glanced at Emmerich and decided that, despite his skinniness, the engineer could probably handle it.

“The Patriots are close to their endgame: total control of Earth's population. But they can't control _you._ ”

“Uh … have you had a look at recent anti-natural-laws? They're pretty good at controlling us already.”

David shook his head and pushed the rest of his breakfast aside.

“No, not on a genetic level. They can manipulate you from the outside, steer and push you, but not from _inside_. Controlling the naturals requires force and laws and regulations. Controlling Two-Os merely a change of code.”

Emmerich pushed his ilens up his nose, obviously forgetting all of David's earlier teasing about it. David could sense it; Emmerich was close to accepting that this was really going on and wasn't just the plot for an action feelie or the ravings of a lunatic. But believing and helping where still two very different things.

“I … don't really get it yet.”

Emmerich stared from his nearly empty plate to David and back again. David sighed. The lost puppy look in the engineer's eyes had something endearing but as much as David would have liked to spare him, he needed his help.

“This isn't a new plan. The Patriots aren't a new group. They've been planning and preparing this thing for decades, maybe centuries. This isn't about a group of tyrants and terrorists seizing control and forcing everyone under their order. They're not an enemy from the outside. They're in every government, every law court, every institution that holds power. They control every military, every hospital, every–”

“They control everything. Yeah, I get the picture, much as I don't like it.”

“But their control goes even further than that. Geneticists can do and achieve incredible things these days, creating perfect bodies that former generations only dreamt of.”

Emmerich nodded, shifting uncomfortably on his chair. David could guess what was going on in his head. It wasn't fair to confront Emmerich so bluntly with the fact that he _wasn't_ perfect but it was important that he understood. David leaned slightly forward, fixing the natural with his stare. He wouldn't lose him now. Even if it meant dismantling everything Emmerich might have believed in.

“They've eradicated diseases and most of the problems associated with old age. But have you ever wondered what else they do? What they _really_ do when they design someone? Think of it as a very advanced computer programme. It works perfectly, looks perfectly on the surface, but there's hidden code that nobody knows of but the programmers. Code that can be activated at their will. This sleeping genetic code is the ultimate weapon because you can't fight it and you never see it coming. It's the perfect sleeper agent only it's everyone. And you probably won't even notice when it's activated.”

“That sounds horrible!” Emmerich's eyes behind his ilens were incredibly wide and he twisted the thin cloth of his trousers between agitated fingers.

“And is unfortunately all too real.” David sighed. He didn't want to frighten the natural but it was the only chance to get his help.

“But how do you know all this? And how do the naturals play into it? And,” Emmerich took a quick look around before lowering his voice, “should we really talk about that _here_?”

The café was still pretty empty but there were a handful of customers scattered around the tables, though each was minding their own business. Everybody was always minding their own business in this particular café. His lips twitched into a half-smile.

“It's okay, we're safe here. A former … _mentor_ of mine runs this place and he's … well, let's say he's a bit paranoid. With good reasons. This is probably the safest place to talk in the whole city.”

Emmerich whistled under his breath, looked around once more and got back to the problem at hand.

“That doesn't answer the myriad of other questions though. How exactly do they plan to kill us all off?”

Despite the sunshine outside, David's fingers felt cold. This was the part that still chilled his bones, ever since he'd first heard about it. Assuming power was one thing, killing half of the population however…

“FOXDIE. It's a disease created to kill anyone who hasn't the genetic key to its built-in self-destruct mechanism. Designing a disease that specific and creating the genetic immunity for Two-Os is the work of generations. After all, the disease can't be deployed before the group that isn't supposed to die is completely immune. But we're nearing that state pretty fast.“

“How will it be deployed? Tainted water reserves? Food?”

Emmerich eyed his emptied plate nervously but David shook his head.

“By air. The Patriots have built warheads carrying the disease that will be detonated in the higher stratosphere in order to ensure global reach. To avoid suspicion, they won't use the usual launch sites but have created what basically amounts to walking tanks that can move around and launch a rocket high enough for their purposes. Stealth launch sites, if you will. Besides, that way they can make sure that the whole globe is affected by launching the rockets from precise locations. The programme that developed and built these walking tanks, codenamed Metal Gear, is officially concerned with nuclear deterrence. Quite ironic, really. Most people involved won't even know what these machines will eventually be used for.”

“So they become mass murderers without even knowing it? But that's horrible! We have to do something!”

David's lips twitched in wry amusement. “That's sort of the idea.”

Sobering from his moment of outrage, Emmerich gulped. It probably began to dawn on him that maybe this was real after all. That the more likely scenario of him waking up from a crazy dream wasn't going to happen. David could sympathise. It _was_ a lot to take in. And once you knew, there was no going back.

“You want me … you want _us_ … _that's_ the job you're offering me?”

David smiled and nodded.

“I'm afraid the payment is lousy to non-existent but on the other hand you get the chance to save the world. So what do you say?”

The answer to that was for a very long while “nothing.”

David tried not to be impatient but returned half-heartedly to the rest of his breakfast. Let the guy think and come to terms with all of it. True heroes were seldom found in the Nats. Or anywhere else for that matter. The stories might tell them that this sort of thing wasn't anything you could say “no” to, but the reality was far more complicated than that. Emmerich's life was in danger no matter what he did, but there was a real chance that the disease wouldn't be deployed in his lifetime. Natural lifespans were a lot shoter than those of Two-Os after all.

“Why me?” Emmerich finally asked instead of a definite answer, buying time and swallowing his last, cold sip of coffee.

David tried not to look disappointed. He shrugged and replied honestly: “I have many skills, but advanced engineering and computer expertise are not among them. I need someone for the tech stuff. You have those skills. You're, well, naturally invested in the cause, shall we say, plus I can't trust any Two-Os. Not with the Patriots' influence reaching as far as it does.”

“That … does make sense. But how do you know you can trust me?”

David hesitated. He wasn't even really sure whether he _could_ trust Emmerich, after all. In the end, he went with the truth, or something very close to it, anyway. “Well, you're a natural so you're probably not feeling all too gracious towards the Powers that Be. Which is also evident from your file which I … ah … managed to get access to. It also says you have the skills I need, you've just chosen not to use them since your earlier scrapes with the law.” David rubbed his neck slightly embarressed. “And my dog likes you. He usually has a good nose for people.”

“Your dog?”

David remembered the natural's suprise when he'd first seen the remarkably unremarkable mutt. Two-Os usually didn't keep ugly dogs. But David and Rex went a long way back and David trusted him more than most humans. Rex had taken to Emmerich immediately. And that was good enough for David.

“As you probably guessed, the jobs around the house were just an opportunity for me to get to know you and I liked what I saw. So here we are now.”

Emmerich looked stunned. David was all too aware of the prejudices. No Two-O had probably ever liked what they saw when they looked at him. They either didn't look at him to begin with or sneered in disgust.

David waited again but after a short while, Emmerich replied: “Okay, I'll help you.”

He beamed at him.

“Congratulations. You've just become a terrorist.”

 


End file.
